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She is also, and primarily, an educational assistant at Nelson A. Boylen Collegiate, in the north end.

The kids she works with have autism or Down syndrome; some are aggressive, others are non-verbal, and all of them are between 14 and 21 years of age.

The school is a regular high school, although enrolment is declining. Mara’s kids are integrated into the school population, but if they have extraordinary needs they also get extraordinary lessons with the most advanced teaching tools and methods.

Not the least of which is Mara.

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It can be difficult work; she has been hit; once, she was bitten on the head; none of this bothers her. She knows how to keep herself, and her kids, safe.

She and the kids have the habit of dancing every day, on stage, during the lunch hour; regular students, and also other teachers, are free to drop by to watch the show.

Mara said, “A lot of the kids are shy and have low self-esteem. Music and dancing gives them courage to do a lot of different things; when the other kids in the school come to see them, it gives belonging.”

How long has this been going on?

“Two years ago, I tried with one song. Now, we do six songs every day; when someone is here to see them, you can see the look on their faces, as if to say ‘We can show what we know.’ ”

Why is that important?

“A lot of people believe these kids can’t do anything; they can do a lot of things.” Does integration work? “Last year all the kids were invited to the prom; four came and they had the time of their life.”

In addition to the lunch-hour boogie, every year in April Mara and the kids put on a show for the community. She said, “I’m very outspoken — last year I invited the premier, all the councillors, the mayor, the director of the board, the trustees, the superintendent. I had food; we prepared it with the kids, it’s free.”

Who came?

I’ll tell you later.

As we talked, her kids began trickling into the gym. One boy sat beside me. I got a grin and a fist bump. When I made a note, I got another fist bump.

Mara said, “Sometimes the kids say they think people will laugh at them if they dance.” Fist bump. “I say, ‘Who’s the one dancing in the middle? I’m fat, I’m old, I lost some teeth — they’re laughing at me. Don’t say you won’t; say you’ll try.”

Fist bump.

And then, fist bump, Mara set up the sound system and, fist bump, the music was poppy and heavy on the “hey, baby, hey baby.” Fist bump.

The kids joined her on stage, shyly at first; fist bump. Mara is a terrific dancer; you see her and you think dancing is all there ever ought to be.

For a change, I turned the tables on the fist bump kid and I fist bumped him, and then he hugged me, and then he stood up and showed me this other thing: fist bump, elbow bump, shoulder bump, knee bump; all very cool. I felt like I belonged.

It also occurred to me, as I watched, that to dance is to speak, and so I changed my mind about kids who I thought were non-verbal: dancing is talking.

Oh, I mentioned last year’s party: a couple of dignitaries showed up; a disappointingly small number. One city councillor — I won’t tell you his name — called Mara on what he thought was the day of the party and said he couldn’t come. Mara smiled sweetly over the phone and said, “Oh, there’s still time — it’s not until tomorrow.” He sputtered and hung up.

No, he didn’t bother.

I hope he’s still embarrassed.

As the hour came to a close — there were a couple of dozen regular students, and half a dozen teachers watching — Mara led a conga line across the stage and into the audience, and you could not tell who was who.

And anybody who gets an invitation to the party next spring, and who does not come, is a jerk.

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